


Keep Me Real

by JungMichan



Series: Splintered Light: EXO Canon-AU Oneshots [2]
Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Cutting, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Male Friendship, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JungMichan/pseuds/JungMichan
Summary: Baekhyun is losing his grip on the here and now, and he only knows one way to cope. But the knife is sharper than he thinks.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen, Byun Baekhyun/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Series: Splintered Light: EXO Canon-AU Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166735
Kudos: 45





	Keep Me Real

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains self-harm in the form of cutting and PTSD flashbacks. Please do not read if you are triggered by this.

Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok are walking down one of the many long corridors in the SBS Broadcasting Center to find their dressing room when a booming, boisterous call from behind makes them turn in unison.

“Look who it is! Chen, Xiumin, Baekhyun! Our one and only EXO-CBX!!” The shouter is a heavyset, shaven-haired man in his mid-fifties. He has a broad red face that’s always slightly sweaty no matter what the temperature is, small eyes, and a wide, beaming smile. It’s a face that would be immediately recognized by nearly every Korean citizen and a lot of international Korean wave fans as well; the comedian and TV presenter Kim Myung has been hosting a vast variety of TV shows since before Baekhyun was even born. Now he hurries down the corridor towards them, trailed by three cameramen and a bunch of other directors, writers, assistants and other hangers-on in the usual “uniform” of black skinny jeans, black puffer jackets, and face-masks either worn over their faces or pulled down to their chins. Myung is obviously filming a show, though which one out of the myriad he hosts, it’s impossible to know.

Baekhyun barely takes in the approaching comedian’s surrounding ensemble. He’s frozen in place, his entire being focused on the large man. Myung is smiling his usual broad smile, and from his peripheral vision Baekhyun is vaguely aware of Minseok and Jongdae smiling back and bowing their polite greeting. Automatically he copies his friends, his bow perhaps just a little late, his smile perhaps just a little too robotic. His heart is hammering in his ears, so loud he can barely hear anything else. His throat constricts, his chest feels tight, and everything has suddenly gone way too bright.

“What are you filming?” Jongdae’s voice reaches Baekhyun as if from very far away, though his friend is standing right next to him. He desperately wants to turn and run. Every instinct is screaming at him, run, run, run! - but he cannot, must not listen to that voice. He grits his teeth and summons up a surge of anger. If he gets angry, he can sometimes, kind of, control the primal hammering fear. He drives the anger at himself, yells furious words inside his head. _Get a fucking grip, Byun Baekhyun!_

He doesn’t hear Myung’s reply, but he manages to copy how Jongdae and Minseok react - the smiles, the nods, the expressions of revelation that say _ah, of course, that show, oh yes._ He takes a small step backwards as Myung and the cameras press closer, getting Minseok and Jongdae between him and the large comedian. His hand brushes accidentally against Jongdae’s and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed it and is holding it tightly, hidden from camera view by the crush of bodies coming together in the corridor. Jongdae doesn’t visibly react, but his fingers wrap in response around Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun focuses hard on the sensation of Jongdae’s cool skin against his. The physical contact seems to ground him in reality a little, and words start to filter in and make sense again.

“...time for a ten-second game?” Myung asks. Jongdae glances across at Minseok - he can’t see Baekhyun, who is now almost directly behind him - and smiles his agreement. Baekhyun knows they don’t really have a choice in the matter. Refusing the nationally famous MC is not really possible - not unless they want hundreds of articles screaming how rude EXO-CBX are, not unless they want blacklisting from every show Myung presents. Baekhyun grips Jongdae’s hand tighter. His heart is beating so hard he’s scared Jongdae will be able to feel his way-too-rapid pulse through his skin, and his breath is starting to come fast and shallow. _No,_ he tells himself. _Not here. You will NOT have a panic attack here._

The “ten-second game” is Myung giving a situation where an idiom might be used, and the three of them having to provide the correct idiom. If one of them gets it wrong, the MC will lose and have to find another group to accost and play the game with. Baekhyun tries to breathe properly, tries to listen to what Myung is saying, but he can barely understand normal sentences right now, let alone think of weird and unusual idioms.

Jongdae gets the first idiom right, and there’s the usual hyped-up over-acted celebration. Myung bellows the second idiom at Minseok, and when Minseok also gets it correct, the celebration is even more overdramatic. It’s all so loud and overwhelming, and it feels to Baekhyun like he’s being hit with multiple sledgehammers. He wants to crouch down, shut his eyes against the too-bright light and put his hands over his ears, but the only thing he can do is focus on Jongdae’s hand holding his and try his best to understand what’s going on.

It is his turn now, but he can’t look directly at Myung’s face. That is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to do again. He fixes his eyes on the staff member standing directly behind the hyperactive MC and desperately tries to make sense of the idiom the man screams into his face.

“What would you say when you’ve achieved two things with one action?”

There are cries of “it’s the easiest one!” “a baby could get this!” Everyone is suddenly staring at him, willing him to get the idiom right so they can win the game. Pressure is building up inside him and their eyes are pushing on him from outside, and Myung’s face is too large and too close, _too close too close get away from me_ \- But Baekhyun knows this idiom, it’s an easy one, easier than the others - birds, right? Birds and stones? His panicked mind seizes on the answer and blurts it out.

“I killed a bird with two stones!”

“Aaaaargh!” yells Myung, clutching his stubbled head. Everyone cracks up - the staff, Jongdae and Minseok - even the cameramen are snickering. Baekhyun gives an uncertain laugh too, his eyes flicking around, trying to find a clue. He tugs Jongdae’s hand, and his friend turns to him, and sees his confusion. He pulls his hand free from Baekhyun’s to sling his arm around his shoulder and ruffle his hair affectionately.

“It’s “I killed two birds with one stone”, idiot,” he tells him, grinning.

Ah. Baekhyun makes his mouth drop open and his eyes go wide, then covers his mouth with his hand in pantomimed regret - the editors will want a reaction. When this airs he’ll probably get a whole ton of negative comments for being a typical air-brained idol, but at least he was funny, even if he hadn’t meant to be.

“You killed a bird with two stones?” Minseok teases. “Isn’t that cruelty to animals?”

“My - my tongue slipped,” Baekhyun stammers, eliciting more laughs from the assembled crowd. He’s starting to feel weirdly distant. It’s like his panicky mind is trying to detach from his body and float away. It’s very disconcerting.

Myung and the staff thank them for playing and hurry off to accost some other poor, unsuspecting idol group who might be in the building. The three of them are finally left alone.

“I can’t believe you got that wrong,” Jongdae shakes his head as they start to hurry down the corridor towards their dressing room. The game only took a couple of minutes, but they still have to get changed and made-up for their appearance on a music and talk show this evening. Baekhyun tries to laugh, but his head’s still floating way off somewhere, and it comes out a little too shrill, almost hysterical. Jongdae’s smile fades. He stops walking and turns to Baekhyun, his eyes searching his face.

“Hey - are you OK?”

Minseok stops walking and looks back at them. Baekhyun nods hurriedly, up and down like a jack-in-the-box.

“Fine, fine, I’m fine,” he gabbles. He’s not fine at all, and he knows it, but it doesn’t matter whether he’s fine or not. He can’t let it matter. He cannot break down here. There’s no time, and there’s no reason to do so. Nobody knows, and nobody can ever know. Not even his closest friends.

“You’re shaking,” Jongdae looks concerned now. “Baekhyun -”

“I told you I’m fine!” Baekhyun snaps. He jerks away from Jongdae’s reaching hand and starts walking rapidly down towards their dressing room, hating himself for the flash of hurt in Jongdae’s expressive eyes. But Jongdae is always way too perceptive, and anger is more easily explained than fear. Anger can be put down to tiredness or stress. Fear so powerful it makes him shake and gasp and be unable to think straight - that is not so easily explained away.

That’s the right thought. Anger. He needs anger right now. He spins around on his heel and faces Jongdae and Minseok.

“Do you guys always have to make fun of me? So what if I got the idiom wrong? It was just a slip! I’m not an idiot, you know!” He yells. He hates himself so much for the shock and confusion he sees in their faces, but it’s still better than them realising just how terrified he is right now. He wants them to be angry back at him. Why can’t they stop looking so hurt and yell back!?

“Baekhyun, we didn’t mean -” Minseok tries, but Baekhyun cuts him off.

“Forget it. I need to go calm down. Don’t try and find me. I’ll be back before we broadcast.” He spins around and runs down the corridor, ignoring their voices calling after him.

He passes the dressing room door that has EXO-CBX inscribed on its whiteboard sign and turns a corner at the end of the corridor. The ground floor of SBS Center is made up of multiple large studios with permanent or rotating sets for shows with audiences, as well as dressing rooms and waiting areas for the appearing artists. He’s been here many times over the course of his career, but there are still parts of the building he’s never had a reason to go. The long corridor round the corner is high, wide, and dimly lit. On the right it has rolling metal doors that can be raised up for truck access from the outside. On the left, small doors alternate with more roll-up ones, obviously access to the backs of the studios and sets. He finds a small door that has been left slightly ajar and slips inside. He shuts the door behind him, snibs the lock in the handle, and is plunged into darkness lit only by the eerie green glow of an EXIT light above his head.

He presses his back against the door and hears his breath coming hard and fast. He wasn’t expecting Myung to accost them like that. Usually he knows well in advance what shows they’re doing and who is hosting, and he has time to prepare himself for meeting the man. It doesn’t happen all that often, because being a comedian, Myung doesn’t host music shows, and EXO don’t do a lot of variety. But today was too much of a shock - a fist straight to the face, with no chance to prepare for it.

Baekhyun feels like he’s floating away, disconnecting with reality, and it’s utterly terrifying. At the edges of his consciousness, memories linger. They’re waiting for him - waiting for him to lose control, lose his grip on here and now so they can overpower him. A whimper escapes his lips. He’s scared. He’s so scared of the memories. When they hit him it’s like being stuck in a waking nightmare, one he can’t get out of. Shivers and trickles of them rasp at his edges. He thinks he feels hands at his throat, hot, broad, rough hands pressing on his windpipe...he presses his own hands to his neck and shoves the memory away, but

_he’s in a dark office with the door locked and Myung is telling him to take off his shirt, and Baekhyun really doesn’t want to but he has to because it’s Kim Myung and if he doesn’t obey him he’ll ruin not just Baekhyun but EXO too and how can Baekhyun let that happen? And so he takes off his shirt, and Myung comes closer and grabs his arms and shoves him back against the wall, and he’s unbuttoning his own shirt and Baekhyun starts to cry, he knows what’s going to happen, and he’s trapped, there’s no escape, he can’t even scream or fight back because Myung said he’d ruin EXO, and he can do it, and he will. Myung puts his hot rough hands everywhere and he’s so big and so heavy, and Baekhyun is shivering and crying and Myung just rubs and grinds and sweats and pants and even when Baekhyun tries to fight him off, he grabs his wrists and pins them back and smiles, oh god that smile sends such fear through Baekhyun that he can’t help it, he’s going to scream, he’s going to - he opens his mouth and a heavy hand clamps over it and then another hand is on his neck, pushing and pushing so that he can’t breathe, can’t move -_

“NO!” The cry tears from his throat and startles him back into the present. Tears are pouring down his cheeks and he’s crouching down in the dark, clutching at his own throat. He staggers to his feet and fumbles for the light switch by the door. The light goes on and he’s suddenly blinded by dazzling brightness. It’s so bright it hurts, stabbing into his eyes. He shades them with his hands and blinks hard.

“I can’t do this,” he says aloud. His voice is too high and the words are too fast, but he needs to speak, needs the sound of his own voice to keep him here, keep him now, keep him real. “I can’t do this, I can’t, not now, not now. I need to stop it, I need to get ready, there’s the broadcast soon, I need to get a grip. Baekhyun, GET A GRIP!”

But no matter how much he yells at himself it’s too powerful, it’s all too powerful for him. It’s tearing him apart inside. He’s so scared and he’s so _angry_ that he’s so scared. It was years ago, goddamnit it was six fucking years ago and he’s still like this? How dare that man make him feel like this? He’s not a child any more, he’s a grown man and a successful idol and all his dreams have come true, and Myung only did it that one time, and yet Baekhyun _still_ reacts to him like this? What kind of pathetic idiot is he? He hates himself, he really does. He clenches his fists and burns with the hatred of it all. He hates Myung for doing this to him and he hates himself for not being able to control the fear, even now.

The pressure is building up inside him. He’s going to scream, or smash something, or explode into a million pieces. He thinks he’s going crazy. His mind is at breaking point, thoughts tangling and twisting, and the emotions are too strong. He can’t cope. He can’t. He’s going to snap. He groans, grabbing his hair again and pulling until tears of pain come into his eyes, but it isn’t enough. He can’t get a grip this way, and he doesn’t have time to have a full-blown panic attack, it takes _hours_ to get through those and he has a broadcast to do.

There’s only one solution. It’s not a good solution, not at all, but it’s the only one he knows will work. He needs to let the unbearable pressure out through his skin before he explodes with it. He needs sharp pain to anchor him in the present. He needs hot blood to prove that he is real, that now is real, not the memories. Pain and blood are the only things that can keep him real.

He’s cut before, only little cuts, scratches really, on his legs where they won’t be seen, and they always heal without scarring because they’re not very deep. He can make a little cut to let the pressure out and see the blood and feel the pain and let it anchor him in the here-and-now. He can hide it under a band-aid and nobody will ever know. It’s not really a destructive behaviour, not like real cutting. He starts rationalizing even as the urgent pulse of needing to cut takes over his mind and gives him a focus, sharpening him and stabilizing him. It’s not self-destructive - he’s helping himself, saving himself from worse things. It’s like - like bloodletting, like they used to do in the old days, or like acupuncture, redirecting bad energy. It’s a way to cope.

He needs something to cut with. He’s in a large workshop behind the filming stages and auditoriums, filled with scenery, props and costumes for the different shows. There’s a corner where they’re building pieces of a new set. There might be something sharp there, a chisel or a saw-blade, something he can nick himself on - but halfway there his eye is caught by something on the table. A thick roll of something like vinyl has been spread out, and someone has been cutting shapes out of it, for some purpose or other. It doesn’t matter to Baekhyun what the vinyl shapes are for - what’s caught his eye is the art scalpel that’s been used to cut the vinyl. It has a long, thin, cylinder-shaped metal handle, with a sharp blade screwed into the end. It’s perfect.

Baekhyun grabs the art scalpel in his right hand and shoves his sleeve up, exposing a slim white forearm. He places the blade on the outer edge of the middle of his forearm, and now Baekhyun is all full of screaming. He’s screaming inside, everything is too much, it’s all too much. He _hates_ himself and he deserves, yes, he _deserves_ to be hurt, he’s so fucked up and twisted and gone wrong inside that he _deserves_ this. He gathers up all the pain and hatred, pushes the art scalpel hard into his arm, and drags it swiftly across. And behind the blade, his arm splits open.

A huge red gash cuts the whiteness of his arm in half, like a gaping, dark red eye glaring up at him. Inside Baekhyun, everything suddenly goes very quiet. Numbly he stares down at the gaping wound in his arm. There’s no more screaming inside him. The all-consuming fear and anger and hatred is gone as if turned off by a switch, replaced by an echoing silence. His ears ring with it.

 _Oh_ , he thinks.

_Shit._

The art scalpel falls from his fingers to the floor. Dark blood wells up in the wound and trickles over its edges, and suddenly his arm is bleeding. Bleeding a lot. Blood flows from each corner of the eye-shaped wound like a river of ghastly tears, pours over both sides of his arm and starts spattering down onto the wooden floor. Instinctively Baekhyun grabs the wound with his right hand, wrapping his hand horizontally around his arm. Blood oozes up between his fingers and pours down his arm. The floor is already getting covered with it.

 _Shit, shit, shit_...he stares at the blood falling to the floor. He lets go of the wound and looks at it again. He can’t see how deep it is because it’s full of blood, but it’s so wide, God, it’s so wide. He had no idea a knife could do that to him. The little penknife he’s used before to make scratches in his arm never did this. It was old and blunt. He didn’t know the scalpel was that sharp. But of course it was sharp, he thinks as he grabs his arm again. He's such an idiot. This thing is designed to cut through vinyl. It’s probably as sharp as a surgical scalpel.

What is he going to do? Blood is dripping everywhere, it’s making a huge mess, and his arm and hands are coated with it. His body starts to shake. He’s not scared, exactly - not scared like he was before. Now is more of a deep, clear horror. He’s awake now. The cut has done its job. It’s brought him out of the uncontrollable panic. What he feels now is real, and so despite how scary the wound in his arm is, it’s better than how he felt before. It is shock that has him shaking now. The shock of seeing his forearm just open up like that, so suddenly, so unexpectedly. All he’d wanted was a little scratch, just enough to let the terror out. He got more than he bargained for this time.

“Think,” he says aloud. His voice comes out so shaky he barely recognizes it. “Think. You’re bleeding. So - you have to stop the bleeding.”

His hand isn’t enough to stop the blood. The wound is too wide, and he can’t push the edges together with only one hand. He walks unsteadily towards the rack of costumes, blood dripping rapidly from his arm as he goes. There are several patterned silk scarves knotted around a hanger. They’re probably insanely expensive, but he can’t help that. He’ll pay for what he’s ruined, somehow or other, he’ll think up some excuse for stealing costumes but right now he has to stop bleeding everywhere.

He has to let go of the cut to un-knot the scarves, and when he does, blood gushes out faster than ever, pouring down his arm when he reaches up to the hanger, flowing in small rivers off his elbow. Baekhyun struggles with shaking fingers to unknot one of the scarves. He’s starting to get scared. He’s never bled so much, ever. This is really bad. He’s really hurt himself.

Does he need help? He shies away from the thought. How could he explain what he’s done? It looks awful. It looks horrific. He’s not like this. Baekhyun is not supposed to be fucked up like this. To other people, Baekhyun is a bright and happy person, always smiling, always laughing, always winning. What will they think of him if they see what he’s done? He’ll ruin everything.

But he can’t un-knot the scarf. His hands are shaking too much and the knot is too tight. Shock is stealing his strength and there’s just so much blood. He gives up on the scarf and grabs his arm tightly again. He bends his elbow, pressing the hand holding the wound awkwardly against his chest, trying to get more pressure on it. He looks back across the room and sees just how much blood there is on the floor, starting from where he had cut himself and trailing all the way across to the costume rack. There’s an even bigger pool of it at his feet.

Baekhyun realises then that this is too much for him to handle alone. He needs help. No matter how shameful it is, no matter what they think of him, no matter if they hate him forever for doing such a stupid, stupid, _stupid_ thing to himself, first of all he needs help. He’ll have to deal with the rest of it later.

He cannot leave this room. If any staff or crew or, god forbid, the media see him like this it will probably be the end of his career. He can’t let that happen. He can’t let them find out, and that leaves only one option.

He takes his right hand off the cut and quickly presses his arm against his shirt, trying to keep at least a little pressure on it while he pulls his phone from his pocket. Blood streaks across the screen as he slides his fingers across to wake it up.

“Call Jongdae,” he instructs the voice-activated A.I. He clears his throat several times as the phone rings, trying to get the shaking out of his voice.

Jongdae picks up.

“Baekhyun?” He asks. He sounds so worried that Baekhyun nearly starts crying. “Are you okay?”

“Um,” Baekhyun says. “Not exactly…” He exhales shakily. “Jongdae... I’ve done something really stupid. Can you come help me?”

“Of course. Where are you?”

“In one of the back workshops, I’m not sure which one. Jongdae, please, don’t tell anyone. Just come.”

“Minseok is here too, he wants to come, is that okay?”

“I - I guess so,” Baekhyun can’t stop the tears from showing in his voice now. “I’m - I’m really sorry. You’re going to get a shock - I wouldn’t ask but -”

“It’s okay,” Jongdae’s voice is soothing, but Baekhyun can hear the jolting in his voice as he runs, the sound of quick footsteps coming through the phone speaker. “We’re coming. Just hang on, okay? We’ll be there any second. Don’t hang up, okay?”

“I have to put my phone down,” Baekhyun says. He has to, because he can’t hold the wound properly against his chest, and blood has already stained the entire front of his shirt.

“No, no don’t -” but Baekhyun drops his phone anyway and grabs the wound again. He wants to sit down, but he has to unlock the door for them. He walks unsteadily to the door and twists the snib, smearing the handle with blood as he does so. Then he sinks down against the wall beside the door and leans his head back against the wall, letting his eyes fall shut. He’s suddenly utterly exhausted.

He lets out a long breath, and his body stops shaking. His tears stop falling. Everything becomes suddenly, blissfully, quiet. Yes. Yes, this is what he was after. This is what he needed. He needed this calm. He needed his mind to shut off, and now it has. Now he is hollow and quiet inside. Now he can rest.

After a few minutes he hears the door open, and he opens his eyes and glances up. Jongdae steps inside, followed closely by Minseok. As if in slow motion, Baekhyun sees Jongdae’s eyes widen and his mouth fall open as he takes in the bloody floor, the pools of it by the table where he’d cut and beneath the costume rack where he’d tried to untie the silk scarf. His eyes follow the blood to where Baekhyun sits against the wall, his knees drawn up, clutching his blood-soaked arm to his chest.

The expression that comes to Jongdae’s face then is one Baekhyun never, ever wants to see on his friend again. He’s never seen Jongdae look so terrified, and it’s all his fault. He should feel guilty, but right now, he’s too numb inside for that. Too hollow. Everything has flooded out, along with his blood, leaving him echo-empty.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae says, and goes to his knees beside him. “Oh God, Baekhyun, what have you done?”

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun whispers. His own words seem to echo inside him. “I’m sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jongdae says, although of course it’s not okay, not okay at all. His face is tight with fear as he turns around to look up at Minseok, who is still standing in the doorway, white-faced, a hand pressed over his mouth. “Find a cloth or something,” he orders. “We have to stop the bleeding.”

Minseok runs over to the costume rack, untying the scarf Baekhyun failed to undo in a matter of seconds. He runs back over and drops to his knees beside Jongdae, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s kneeling in Baekhyun’s blood.

“Show me your arm,” Jongdae says. Baekhyun bites his lip, glancing between them. Their scared faces strike somewhere deep inside his emptiness, and tears rise up to fill his eyes again.

“It looks awful,” he whispers. “You don’t want to see it.”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Jongdae says firmly. “We have to stop it bleeding, okay? Now show me your arm.”

Baekhyun is too tired to disobey. He takes his hand away from the wound and holds out his arm. The livid gash glares up at them, spanning right across as Baekhyun’s forearm and gaping open almost as wide as it is long. Minseok gasps, but Jongdae just takes the scarf from him and starts wrapping the broad coloured silk tightly around his forearm. As the cut is hidden from view, relief fills Baekhyun. He hadn’t realised just how scared he was. He’s never had an injury like that before, and being all on his own with it was utterly terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He can’t stand how upset Minseok looks. His face is all crumpled. Jongdae’s brown eyes are wide and worried, and they both look at him so sadly it makes Baekhyun’s tears flow faster.

“Why?” Minseok whispers. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

Baekhyun presses the back of his good forearm across his eyes while Jongdae keeps wrapping the cut. “I didn’t mean to,” he says. “I was just so scared, and so angry...I thought I was going crazy. I had to let it out somehow, we had to broadcast, and I just saw the knife and grabbed it and…” he breaks off as his voice shakes.

“You - you were angry because of what we said...”

Baekhyun inhales sharply and drops his arm to stare at Jongdae. His friend’s eyes have filled with tears and he’s pressing a clenched fist to his lips.

“No!” He cries. “No, that’s not it at all. I made that stuff up because I was freaking out and I had to get away. It was something that happened earlier. It wasn’t you guys at all.”

“But what could make you hurt yourself so badly?” Minseok looks distraught. “It’s going to need stitches, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun starts to tremble. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe properly. He can’t tell them. Not that. Bad enough they’ve seen what he’s done to himself. There’s no way he can burden them with that too. Besides, he doesn’t even think he can talk about it. It’s so locked in secrets that he doesn’t know how to let it out. Tears spill from his closed eyelids and trickle down his cheeks.

Warm arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into a hug. Jongdae holds his shaking body tight.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. I’m here, Baekhyun. Shh, don’t cry…”

“It’s okay,” Minseok echoes, and he feels his other friend leaning close. They hug him from each side, bracing his shaking body between them, supporting him both inside and out.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Baekhyun tells them after a while, when he’s controlled his tears again. He needs to tell them this, even though they haven’t asked. Too many idols have committed suicide over the past few years, and it’s been on everyone’s minds. The fear that maybe next time, it will be one of their own groups, the friends who are as close as brothers and sisters. The shattering grief and helplessness Baekhyun felt when their agency senior had killed himself is something Baekhyun never, ever wants to inflict on anyone else.

“I just wanted to feel better,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to cut so deep.”

Jongdae pulls far enough away to look him in the eyes. “I believe you,” he says quietly. “But this is so dangerous, Baekhyun. We need to find another way to help you.”

Baekhyun has no reply to that. There is no other way to help him. Jongdae doesn’t understand. The awfulness he’s escaping from is just too big and terrible.

“I think it’s stopped bleeding,” Minseok is gently holding his scarf-wrapped arm, checking for any signs of fresh blood. “But we need to get you to hospital and get it stitched up.”

“The broadcast,” Baekhyun shakes his head. “I can’t miss that. It’s stopped bleeding. I can go after we’ve finished filming. Can you guys help me get cleaned up?”

“Christ,” Jongdae whispers. He looks at Minseok helplessly.

“Baekhyun,” Minseok starts. “I think we’ll have to say you’re sick -”

“No,” Baekhyun interrupts. “No, we can’t do that. It’s CBX - there’s only three of us. We need all of us together.”

They all know this is true. If it was a full EXO broadcast, one or two missing members is workable, but without Baekhyun to do his parts in their CBX songs, it will be glaringly obvious that something is missing.

“But,” Minseok looks at Baekhyun’s arm again. “But Baekhyun, doesn’t it _hurt_?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Not really,” he says. It’s true. Despite how it looks, the gash only aches. It’s certainly not unbearable. “It’s safe enough now that it’s not bleeding. I’ll be careful with it and we can get it fixed straight afterwards, but I just can’t mess up a broadcast. Please,” he begs. “I can’t bear to screw everything up for you guys just because I’m such a freak.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Jongdae shakes his head. “You’re not a freak. You were hurting and you didn’t know what else to do.”

“He’s right,” Minseok says.

Baekhyun looks between them wonderingly. They haven’t judged him at all. They don’t hate him, even though he knows he deserves it. Instead, they’re doing their best to understand him and help him. He doesn’t deserve friends like them, but all the same, he needs them.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Minseok takes off his jacket and carefully helps Baekhyun into it so they can get down the corridor without terrifying someone to death with his blood-soaked shirt. Luckily they’re all wearing black jeans so the blood on their knees doesn’t show. Minseok and Jongdae guide Baekhyun to the nearest bathroom, where they carefully wash a terrifying amount of blood from his arm, his hands, and their own hands too.

“I hope nobody goes into that room before we get a chance to clean up,” Jongdae mutters as he tries to get the blood out from under Baekhyun’s fingernails. “They’ll think there’s been a murder.”

Back in the dressing room, Baekhyun carefully changes into his stage outfit, helped by the others to make sure he doesn’t knock his arm. The outfit has long sleeves, so the thickly-wrapped silk scarf is hidden from view. He does his best to act normally through the talk segment show, and he knows the other two are doing so as well, but he can tell that all three of them aren’t quite as bright as usual. Hopefully it’s only noticeable to them. Luckily the song they’re performing is a ballad, and doesn’t involve dance moves. The scarf is doing a good job so far, but Baekhyun is utterly paranoid that if he knocks it at all the wound will start bleeding again. He can’t help imagining blood trickling down his arm inside his sleeve and falling to the floor. Everyone would see - the MCs, the other groups on stage, the studio audience. It would be a total disaster. But the scarf holds, and they get through the show without mishap.

Jongdae takes charge afterwards. Baekhyun is feeling totally shell-shocked by now, numb and drained, and he’s so grateful for Jongdae. He thinks of everything. He calls ahead to the hospital and tells them there’s a celebrity coming in for treatment and it needs to be kept completely secret. He tells the agency manager who’s looking after CBX today that they’ll take a taxi home instead of being dropped off in the van, convincing the man to take a night off. The three of them get into a taxi and take it to the hospital. They put their face masks on and pull their hoods up and hurry Baekhyun between them into the hospital. Jongdae speaks quietly to the receptionist, and they’re shown into a private examination room, where they can wait to be seen instead of the public waiting area.

“How are you doing?” Jongdae asks him when they’re safely inside and the door is closed.

“Okay,” Baekhyun sends him a tired smile.

“You look totally wrecked,” Minseok shakes his head. “You should rest while we wait to be seen. They said it might be a while since it’s not an emergency.”

“I’m okay,” Baekhyun protests, but his friends won’t take no for an answer. They make him lie on the bed and even take off his shoes for him. The headrest is set at a 45 degree angle, and Baekhyun lies against it. When he does, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, so powerful he’s almost dizzy with it. The emotional rollercoaster he’s been through, along with the loss of blood and then having to act as if he was normal through a four-hour show, has drained him far more than he realised. His eyes slip closed, and he’s asleep before he even realises what is happening.

“Baekhyun?”

He startles awake. It felt like he only shut his eyes for a single second, but Jongdae and Minseok have moved positions, someone has unfolded the blanket from the end of the bed and put it over him, and a nurse has appeared in the room.

“Your friends said you hurt your arm,” the nurse says to him. “Can I see it?”

Baekhyun sits up and slowly takes off his jacket. His arm has stiffened up and is more painful now. He gets the jacket off and holds out his arm with the colourful silk scarf tied around it.

“What a pretty bandage,” the nurse smiles at him kindly. She unties the knot Jongdae did and starts unwrapping his arm. Baekhyun watches. He’s apprehensive, but also strangely interested. He wants to see what the cut looks like. He wants to see if it’s really as bad as he remembers.

It is. The nurse peels back the last couple of blood-soaked layers of silk, and there is the wound, gaping up for all to see. Baekhyun feels a little dizzy as he looks at it. It doesn’t bleed anymore. It’s just a huge, dark red hole in his arm. The nurse holds his arm carefully as she looks at it.

“This is self-inflicted?” Baekhyun nods slowly. He has a feeling lying about it would be worse. There’s no legitimate way he could have accidentally gotten an injury like that.

“Alright. We’ll wash it out and a doctor will come and close it up for you,” she says. Baekhyun hangs his head as she places his exposed arm gently down beside him and tells him to keep still until the doctor arrives. He feels like he should be ashamed right now, but he’s just so tired. Too tired to feel anything.

“Baekhyun?” Minseok comes to sit beside him on the bed. Jongdae takes his good hand and holds it. His hand is so warm. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” he murmurs.

“Keep resting,” Jongdae strokes his hair back from his face. ‘“It’s okay.”

A doctor arrives just as Baekhyun has almost fallen asleep again, followed by the same nurse who saw him before. Baekhyun keeps his head turned away as they place towels under his arm and squirt syringes of water into the cut to wash it out. Then there’s a sharp stab of pain along the wound edge. He stifles a gasp and looks over. The doctor has picked up the lip of the cut in an instrument that looks like a long pair of tweezers.

“With a clean cut like this, you can clearly see where the edges should align,” he tells the nurse. He pokes unfeelingly along the edge of the cut, calmly pointing out the different layers of his skin like he’s an anatomy textbook, and Baekhyun bites the inside of his lip hard as tears of pain rise to his eyes. _Don’t be so pathetic,_ he tells himself angrily. _You did this to yourself. You don’t deserve to show pain. What kind of lunatic will they think you, that you cut yourself like this and then cry over a little pain?_

He sets his teeth and forces himself to watch the doctor. It’s a punishment, he decides. He deserves this for being so stupid as to cut himself in the first place. He wonders if they’re going to numb it before they sew it up, but what actually happens shocks him.

“There’s no damage to the tendons. I’ll staple it,” the doctor announces. He picks up a piece of equipment and roughly pinches one edge of the cut together with his fingers

Staple it? Baekhyun hardly has time to take in the words before there’s a crunching noise and a raised metal staple is embedded into the skin on each side of his cut, closing the edges together. He does gasp aloud this time, his vision going white. Jongdae’s hand tightens around his, but the doctor doesn’t relent, ruthlessly moving down the wound. _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._ The staples are embedded into his skin, and nausea rushes over him, but he refuses to close his eyes. He forces himself to stare through his increasing dizziness as the doctor rapidly completes the closure. _I deserve this_ , he thinks. When it’s done, he has a row of staples marching across his arm. They’re raised up like a bridge over the pinched skin and flesh beneath them.

“What are those?” Minseok sounds a little sick.

“Surgical staples,” the doctor says briskly. “They close wounds with less inflammation and a quicker healing time than traditional sutures.” He looks at Baekhyun. “You’ll need to make an appointment with your GP to get them removed in two or three weeks time.”

Baekhyun can’t reply. He’s too dizzy. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about the line of metal embedded into his forearm. Maybe watching that was not such a good idea, no matter how much he deserved it.

“Next time,” the doctor tells him, a little severely, “don’t cut so deep.”

Baekhyun feels his lip start to tremble as tears rise back into his eyes. He puts his good hand over his eyes as he hears the doctor leave. He doesn’t quite know why those words are so hard to take. Is it because the doctor assumed there’d be a next time? Is it simply because he’s being scolded, albeit mildly, and he’s too exhausted to handle it?

“It’s okay,” Minseok and Jongdae hug him from each side while he tries not to cry. “It’s okay. You’re all fixed now.”

He keeps his eyes closed and his hand over his eyes while the nurse puts a dressing over the staples and tells them that they can leave as soon as they’re ready.

“I can’t believe they didn’t even give him a local anaesthetic,” Jongdae mutters angrily over him. “Would it have killed them to numb it for him?”

“I know,” Minseok’s voice on his other side is just as furious. “How can they use a freaking _stapler_ on him without even explaining what’s going to happen? Can you imagine how much that would hurt?”

“I would have stopped them if I’d known they were going to be so brutal,” Jongdae agrees.

Baekhyun smiles a little. He didn’t deserve to have it numbed, not when he did it to himself, but it’s sweet of them to care.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Liar,” Jongdae tells him, his voice softening. “You practically passed out.”

“I was just...resting my eyes,” Baekhyun says.

“And I suppose you’re still resting them?”

Baekhyun moves his hand away and peeps out at them. They’re both looking down at him, and he sees the love and concern in their faces.

“Thanks for looking after me,” he says quietly. “I know I don’t deserve it. But thank you.”

“Of course you deserve it,” Jondgae says. “You’re hurt. Something inside you hurt you, and it ended up showing on the outside. That’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

“We can’t bear to see you hurting,” Minseok adds. “We’d do anything to make you feel better.”

“We love you so much,” Jongdae says, and Minseok repeats the words. Baekhyun wants to cry again, but he manages to smile instead.

“I love you guys too,” he says softly. “I’m really okay now. Let’s go home.”

Baekhyun sleeps all through the night and halfway through the next day. Minseok and Jongdae tell the management he has a bad headache and get his schedule cleared until the evening. He never finds out what happened to the blood-covered workshop. Maybe the cleaners thought it was paint, or stage blood, and cleaned it up. Later, he asks his stylist to find out where the scarf came from and gives her the money to replace it, making up a story about borrowing it and then losing it.

With the trigger of his trauma gone, he slips back into his normal routine. He’s used to pushing his secret so far down that most of the time, he forgets it's even there. His stapled-together arm is hidden under a dressing and his shirt sleeves, and he becomes his normal, bright, outgoing self again.

As for Minseok and Jongdae, well; they’ve seen the dark side of that brightness now. They can’t force Baekhyun to tell them what pushed him to breaking point that afternoon, and they daren’t push too hard, for fear of pushing him away. They suggest he see a therapist, but Baekhyun refuses. He tells them he can’t even think about it. It’s too dangerous for him to think about. All he can do is live his life, push it away, and try his best to forget.

Baekhyun is an adult, so Jongdae and Minseok can’t force him. And it’s true that most of the time, Baekhyun really is fine. Maybe one day he’ll trust them enough to open up and tell them the terrible secret he buries deep inside. But in the meantime, what they can do is make sure he knows they’re always there for him.

“If you ever feel scared,” Jongdae tells him, when the three of them have a quiet moment alone in a dressing room somewhere. “If you ever feel angry, or like you’re going to lose it, promise you’ll tell me, or tell Minseok. Promise you’ll call us if we’re not with you. We’ll help you.”

“Promise us you’ll tell us, no matter how scary it seems,” Minseok says. “We’ll never judge you. We just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Baekhyun sees the love and sincerity shining in them. He can’t tell them the whole truth - it’s just too dangerous, too shameful, and he daren’t even really think about it, because he might get triggered. But he does know that he never wants to hurt himself like that again. He doesn't want a coping mechanism that’s more dangerous than the thing it’s trying to prevent. If his friends are willing to try and hold him tight and keep his hands from going for a knife, then Baekhyun will let them.

He promises.


End file.
